


A Lesson in Linguistics

by Beth Harker (chiana606), chiana606, RewriteThisStory



Series: School 'Verse [1]
Category: Newsies (1992)
Genre: Canon Era, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-08 00:43:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3189404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiana606/pseuds/Beth%20Harker, https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiana606/pseuds/chiana606, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RewriteThisStory/pseuds/RewriteThisStory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David has been back at school for four weeks and this has created some tension between him and Jack that needs to be resolved… with all the obvious kissing in alleyways that the word “tension” entails.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lesson in Linguistics

**Author's Note:**

> Background: The summer is over, Mayer has healed and is back at work. David is made to go back to school. Change often begets change, but some things stay the same. 
> 
> The stories in the series will follow David, Jack and at times, the rest of the newsies. They can be read in order or as stand-alone one-shots. 
> 
> Stories in this series (listed in order): A Lesson in Linguistics, (two stories yet unpublished), Biology Lecture: The Anatomy of a Frog, Math Homework, (one story yet unpublished), Poetry Essay 
> 
> Chiana606 and I like to RP to write stories. She usually takes David and I take Jack. Some of them never see the light of day. But this series stuck with us and we decided to translate most of it into a readable form.
> 
> The idea for this series (and most of the brilliant ideas) was Chiana606's- I'm just glad she keeps asking me to play in her sandbox.
> 
> Chiana606 wrote up "Linguistics" and I wrote up the other three stories in this series. Maybe one day one of us will write the missing ones we RPed and never wrote...
> 
> Originally posted to Tumblr: September-ish 2013

“The first people who lived in England, before the fifth centaury AD, didn’t speak anything even approaching English. They spoke a Celtic language, not like English at all,” David explained. He was sitting next to Jack, legs dangling off the edge of his bunk. Jack hadn’t seen him in about four weeks, not since he’d started school, and _this_ was why. Sure, the feeling of David’s shoulder pressed against his and the way that David’s left foot sometimes nudged against his right were nice and familiar, but the words he was speaking might as well have been in Celtic for amount of sense they made. That’s what getting some stupid high-brow education did to a guy – jammed up his brain with gobbledygook so he couldn’t have a decent conversation, except with folks who were being filled with the same sort of crap he was. 

“After that,” David continued, taking a deep breath as if he had a lot to say and needed to get it out all at once, “these three tribes, the Angles, the Saxons, and the Jutes came over from Denmark and Northern Germany to invade England. Only they weren’t exactly Denmark and Germany yet, just places in that area. Their languages were sort of related to English, not that we’d understand a word of it today. I mean, actually, we could understand some. Words like ‘be’ and ‘water’ were the same. A little. Guess you’d have to know you were looking for things like that if you were trying to read an old English text, but it wouldn’t be worth it, because you’d never get the gist of it anyway.” 

Jack rolled his eyes. So now David was implying that he wouldn’t be able to “get” a text in his own language. Perfect. He didn’t know why he’d agreed to be here so that David could find him. Not like he had anything reasonable to say. 

David stared at Jack for a moment. He had a weird, wide eyed look about him. He bit his lip. For a second Jack had hope that he might stop, but then he opened his mouth.

“Um,” David shook his head, one hand fidgeting with the rough blanket they were sitting on. “Well, in the year 1066 the Normans, led by William the Conqueror invaded England. There was this thing wherein…” 

“Wherein?” Racetrack repeated from his place below them and one bunk away. 

“Yeah,” said David, “Wherein the ruling classes started speaking French, while the lower classes were speaking English.”

“Guess the lower classes won,” Jack commented. “Seein’ as we’re speaking English now. ‘Less this is French and I’m missing something.” 

“Yes!” David said. “Exactly! That’s it!” 

It was the first time all night that he had looked happy or excited. It was strange, because Jack knew what David was like when he seized on a topic he was really interested in it. He smiled a lot, and talked with his hands. He’d get a faraway look in his eyes, but not the sort of tense, glassy stare that he wore now. Jack _liked_ it when David was excited about something, even if it was something that he didn’t fully understand. David had yet to say anything this evening that didn’t make Jack wonder if pushing him off the bed to shut him up wasn’t a good idea, and the only thing that stopped him from doing just that was the sudden realization that David didn’t actually look happy or excited at all… just relieved to get a response. 

“After that…” David started. 

“Nobody’s interested in that, Dave,” interrupted Race. “Least of all you.”

Jack couldn’t help but feel bad when David paused uncertainly at Race’s words. It was enough to make Jack remember why he’d stuck around in the first place. Mush had said that he’d gone to see Dave at school a couple of times, and that he hadn’t seemed like he was doing so great. Mush hadn’t been able to explain what it was that was wrong with David, and neither had Blink, just that he was different and that Jack should probably try talking to him. They’d told him what time David would be at the lodge and everything, and David had showed up with perfect punctuality and a nasty looking shiner on his lower jaw that he claimed to have nothing to say about. Jack brushed the back of his palm against it quickly now, before shaking his head to clear it. 

“I’m interested enough,” Jack said. “Go on Dave. Why is it the lower classes won and we ain’t speaking French today?” He ran a hand down David’s neck, realizing for the first time how tense he was. 

“I’m not sure. We didn’t talk about that in class, but it must’ve happened. It’s just that today a lot of English words come from French, and the way we pronounce vowels is different. The poet Chaucer was instrumental in promoting the use of the English language… middle English. We could read a lot of it today. It’s different, and a little hard to pronounce sometimes. I’ve been reading nothing _but_ it for the past week. You’d find most of the Canterbury Tales boring. God knows I do… not all of it, but a lot of it, like the Nun’s Priest’s Tale. You might like some of the stories if you could read them though, and I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I miss you.” 

Jack almost missed those last couple of words, buried as they were in the academic nonsense David was spewing. Racetrack didn’t. He snorted out a laugh. David looked worried. 

“What I mean is I miss all you guys and selling papers and—you. Jack, I’ve really missed you these past few weeks.” 

That gave Jack pause. He wasn’t used to people missing him. At one point in his life it had been something he thought about a lot, mostly when he was day dreaming about Santa Fe. He guessed he’d just hoped that at least one person in New York would miss him a little when he was gone, and built that up as a part of his whole fantasy. That still didn’t mean that he wanted David to miss him now or that he hadn’t been keeping away from him for a reason. The kid had a future, and it wasn’t selling newspapers till he got too old, then heading off to break his back in the factories or building railroads. No, David was poised and ready to be a scientist, a doctor, the president of the goddamn United States – something fancy like that. Something that didn’t include Jack, at least not in a primary role. Selling papes he and David were partners. Jack didn’t know where it was he’d fit in with David’s new life. It was hard for him to even imagine a scenario where he was David’s underling instead of his equal, and he sure as hell didn’t want to see it firsthand.

David was staring at him, waiting for some kind of response. He turned away to fix a steely stare at the wall as the minutes passed and he didn’t get one. Racetrack pulled a face at Jack, like he was trying to convey without words just what a jerk he was being. 

“That’s great Dave,” Jack said finally. “Good to know slumming it with the newsies didn’t screw you up too bad.” 

“It didn’t…” David started, but Jack cut him off.

“Right. Now I knows the history of the English language so I guess you can…” 

“Do you want me to go?” David asked. Jack rolled his eyes.

“Nah, I was hoping you’d tell me ‘bout where Swedish came from, so’s I can tell Medda later.” 

“Got it,” David said, jumping down from the bed. The dramatic way that Racetrack flopped back against the pillow would’ve been funny, except that it wasn’t. At least Mush wasn’t there. Jack could practically see the blame in the other boy’s eyes when he’d asked him why he was avoiding Davey anyway. 

Jack sort of growled to himself as he also leapt down from the bunk to follow David. Truth be told it wasn’t really because of Race or Mush that he was going after him. It was that in spite of all the noise that his better judgment was making about leaving David the hell alone, Jack knew that the whole missing thing had been mutual. 

“C’mon,” Jack said, throwing an arm around David’s shoulder as he reached the door. “Let’s get something to eat, alright?” 

“I’m not hungry.” David stiffened under his touch. 

“Yeah, well I am.” 

“Look,” David said, once they were a few feet from the lodging house. “I have homework. I have better things to do than talk at somebody who doesn’t even understand a word that I’m saying.” 

“I understand plenty. Try me. Look, I was kidding back there about Swedish, but if you want to tell me I’ll listen real carefully, I promise Dave.” 

“I don’t want to talk about Swedish.” 

“Right so…what about them French tribes then?” 

“There weren’t any French tribes,” David said slowly, as if talking to a small child. “The tribes were _Germanic_ Jack. Germanic! Not French.” 

“Right,” Jack said, the word coming out as a sigh. “Germanic tribes. Got it. So you really wanna tell me about them _Germanic_ tribes or are you ready to tell me what the hell happened to your chin.” 

Jack took hold of David’s face harshly, hoping if David was angry enough it would goad him into telling Jack what wanted to know, or at least make him forget about the stupid Germanics and their stupid tribes. David winced and jerked away like Jack had hurt him. Could be he had. David touched the bruise lightly, as if he were just noticing it for the first time, which Jack knew couldn’t be the case at all. David was the kind of guy who, if he got a cut or scrape, would spend all of his time either picking at it, or else explaining to Jack that he wasn’t going to because that was a good way to die of gangrene. 

“I don’t have to explain anything to you,” David said, his tone low and deliberately menacing, because when David started fights he knew exactly what he was doing, which just made it worse. “You haven’t even been listening to a word I’ve said all night.”

Jack grabbed David by the shoulders.

“You told me I wouldn’t understand English or like that guy Chaucer. You ain’t said anything but tell me what I don’t understand or wouldn’t like. What was I ‘spose to say to that? I was listening. I just didn’t have nothing to say.” Jack let his hands drop and returned David’s glare. Standing still was suddenly the hardest thing in the world. David was just about the only person in the world who Jack found himself having to _stand around_ and argue with. Most folks he could just punch in the face and be done with.

“I… It wasn’t. That wasn’t what I meant. I don’t even like Chaucer. I hate him.” David looked slightly surprised, and Jack could sense victory.

“So why is it you keep talking about him? You hate him, I don’t know him, and you said I’d hate him if I did, but you keep talking about him. You ain’t making sense Dave.” 

David opened up his mouth to answer, then closed it again, looking around him for some kind of excuse to avoid Jack’s questions. All in all, that was a good sign. 

“Why’d you come tonight, Davey? Was it really to give me a history lesson?” 

“I already told you,” David said, some of the anger seeping back into his voice. “I said exactly why I’d come and you rolled your eyes at me like I’d said something stupid.” 

“It’s not that what you’re saying is _stupid_. It’s that you keep calling me stupid. You go back to school and suddenly you’se smarter than all the rest of us. And we knew that already, you don’t gotta go rubbing our noses in it.” Jack hadn’t meant to keep being mad at Dave, but he could feel his voice rising in anger with every sentence as the truth of his words washed over him. “If we ain’t good enough to talk to then you should just talk to your school friends. I bet they understand English and Chaucer.” Jack threw his hands up in the air on that last word. He didn’t know if that Chaucer guy was still alive, but Jack was just about ready to kill him if he was. 

“I _never_ called you stupid,” David said, his own voice rising. “I never even thought you might be, you decided that all on your own. And those guys aren’t my friends. They _aren’t_. I hate them!” David placed his hands on Jack’s shoulders like he might shake him, but instead it was David that was shaking, trembling with whatever emotions he was unleashing upon Jack.

“I thought that _you_ were my friend,” David continued, “but you run whenever I come by and do everything in your power to avoid me, like I’m going to give you the education plague if I touch you, and then they’ll have to lock you up in that building with those kids every day too.” 

David gave Jack a good shake. “And you know what?” He said. “I take back what I said before about you not being stupid. You are stupid Jack. You’re a complete and utter idiot. Are you happy now?” 

Jack wasn’t, and David didn’t look happy either. 

“Sure Dave. Thanks for saying what you really been meaning to say. Sorry I didn’t give you a chance before.” Jack took a step back, out of David’s reach. “Maybe that’s why I been avoidin’ you, you think about that? Figured I’d save you the trouble of telling me I ain’t good enough to be around you, but it sure was nice of you to come out here and tell me special.” 

“Jack,” David said. His shoulders were slumped and his tone placating. He reached out like he’d touch Jack again, but he took another step away.

“Turns out I ain’t so hungry. I’m gonna head back to the lodge… get some sleep.” 

Jack turned to go, taking long strides towards home… in so far as the Newsboys’ Lodging House was home. Probably he couldn’t go on pretending that the Jacobs place was. He still wanted to hit David, which was funny, because his first thought when he’d seen David earlier that evening was that he was going to soak the ass off of whoever it was that’d given him that bruise. Now he sort of felt bad for the guy that’d hit David… probably he’d been stuck having to deal with him for two minutes and been unable to help himself.

“ _Jack_ ,” David said again, racing to catch up with him. He grabbed onto his arm. 

“What do you want?” Jack’s voice was cold. 

“Come here.” David gave Jack’s sleeve an insistent tug, and against his better judgment, Jack let himself be dragged into the nearest alleyway.

It was a lot like any other alleyway around the city, damp and grimy, a nominally private dead-end with a dumpster pushed up against one of the brick walls. Jack couldn’t imagine what David would want with him back there, unless it was to try and hit him or something. It was more annoying than anything else. He could wipe the floor with David Jacobs anytime he wanted to, but at the moment he wanted to hurry up and forget about him more than he wanted to make him bleed. Jack was angry, yeah, but the anger was all the wrong kind of anger. 

David was angry too. He always shook when he was angry, even when he had his face trained into a mask of perfect hatred. 

“What are you doing Dave? You got something to say?” Jack taunted.

No answer.

“You talk too much, you know that?” Jack continued, getting up in David’s face. 

That was when David kissed him, if the press of David’s lips against Jack’s could really be called that. It was quick and hard, and almost like being slapped in the face. David pushed his head back against the wall as he did it. Jack saw stars, and beyond them David’s face, his expression still as harsh as somebody who was contemplating murder. 

Jack wiped his lips on the edge of his sleeve. 

“What the hell _was_ that?” He shouted. He barely knew himself. The sensations of it were still washing over him, and as his lips tingled, he didn’t know if he wanted to punch that glare off of David’s face or try his hand at kissing it off.

David’s face fell. He licked his lips. His hands, clenched into fists at his side, loosened and tightened once before falling slack. 

“It’s just…” he started, at a loss for words for once in his life, “It’s just if you _are_ going to hate me, I’d rather it be for something real instead of just some dumb misinterpretation of everything I say.” 

All the anger had drained out of David’s voice. He looked almost desperate. Jack found himself fixated on the movement of David’s lips, so much so that it was hard to pay attention to the words he said.

Jack took a step towards David, then another. By the third his decision was made. He pressed his hands to David’s chest, pushing him up against the opposite wall. He lowered his lips to David’s and made him stop talking. 

It was rough and hungry, even a little angry, but it said more than any of the words that had passed between them that night. David threaded his hands through Jack’s hair, sending sparks down his spine. The tension in David’s body lessened then grew again, until Jack was standing flush against him and it was a new sort of tension. Jack figured there wasn’t a lot going on in his head in the way of rational thought, but the notion that this was most definitely what David had needed came to him with startling clarity as he pulled the other boy closer to him by the hips. 

Jack would never be quite sure how long they spent like that, but eventually he pulled away, breathing hard. 

David stared at him mystified, like he’d just come to after being knocked unconscious. 

“I uh, I… I don’t hate you Davey.” Jack stumbled over his words. He wasn’t sure if it was because he still hadn’t caught his breath, or because he wasn’t good at talking about this kind of stuff. 

David nodded. “I don’t hate you either. I just missed you.” 

Jack laughed, touching his lips unconsciously. He could almost feel David still there, and was already tempted to try kissing him again. He swung his arms. “So, um, you wanna talk about Germanic tribes some more or…” 

David barked out a surprised laugh, then looked down quickly, running a hand through his hair. “I… no. No more about them. Do you still want to go for lunch or… no, wait, it’s evening.” 

Jack wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. He’d been hungry before, and David’s mention of food made him realize that he was starving, but he also had other feelings vying for his attention. He leaned in towards David again, and then stopped himself. “Uh…yeah. Let’s go eat.” 

“Right.” David sounded like he was trying to convince himself. He straightened his tie, made some attempt at smoothing out his shirt, and then, most inexplicably, reached over and gave the ends of Jack’s shirt a firm tug, trying to pull out wrinkles that may as well have been there since the day Jack had been born. “Because we couldn’t possibly stay here and… Well, we _couldn’t_ , right?” 

“Stay here and what, Davey?” Jack asked, holding fast to David’s hands where they hovered over his shirt. He was pretty sure he knew the answer, but it was worth asking for the flush that rose on David’s face. It served him right, anyway. He _had_ been the one to start it. 

“Don’t know,” David muttered, looking down at his shoe. “Could tell you about the Latin roots of the Romanian language. Maybe.” 

“Yeah,” Jack let go of David’s hands, running his own up David’s sides. “We could do that, but I’m guessing it ain’t what you was aiming for. Could’ve sworn this was what you wanted to do.”

Jack grinned and pressed another kiss to David’s lips. David, for his part, did not call Jack insufferable or make a single comment on his poor impulse control, which was more than enough proof for one night that Jack had been right.

**Author's Note:**

> Original end note written by *Chiana606 on Tumblr: "I posted a while back saying I’d spend half an hour writing on any Newsies Prompt that got sent to me (offer still stands!!). *Someone asked for an argument between Jack and David that ended in unexpected kissing. Instead of half an hour I ended up putting a week or two into this. About halfway through the fic I enlisted *RewriteThisStory to help me out by RPing Jack, so from that point on most of Jack’s lines are hers. I just wrote David’s lines (and thoughts, which don’t show up because of the limited POV), then cleaned things up, and revised some stuff to make it all fit neatly together. There is talk of this being the start of a series of vaguely interconnected fics written collaboratively between *RewriteThisStory and myself. More on that later. Information on the history of the English language came from this site: http://www.englishclub.com/english-language-history.htm. If you wish David had continued to explain that interesting topic instead of making out with Jack, by all means go check out the site!"  
> *names were changed from their Tumblr versions


End file.
